


Thank God It's Friday

by tisfan



Series: Tony Stark Bingo [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Coping, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Parenthood, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-13 03:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Peter needs a new backpack.May needs to know why.When Peter's not too forthcoming, May decides to call Stark Industries to ask about the internship.





	Thank God It's Friday

**Author's Note:**

> For square R2:. May Parker

May was searching through her desk. Somewhere she had it. Ever since Ben died, she’d been a compulsive keeper of paperwork. Ben hadn’t had much in the way of life insurance, and what he did have was on a piece of paper, and after the terrible events, May hadn’t been able to find it, and her insurance agent had -- moved, and transferred all his accounts to a new agent, and then that one had died, and she’d given her accounts over to a third agent, and that one was, May didn’t even know, on drugs or something, and he was refusing to acknowledge that the account existed, or that maybe the payments were past due, and Ben had put the piece of paper somewhere, but May didn’t know where.

Peter had come home from school that day to find her sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room, the entire contents of their file cabinets, desks, and every other thing she could think off piled like a snowdrift around her, sobbing.

He was a good kid, her Peter. He hadn’t panicked or anything. Just sat down with her and very calmly and very solemnly, gone through the papers, one at a time. Peter read really fast, and when he wanted to, he was very organized. He’d helped her sort out all the legal documents they needed, and finally found the life insurance paperwork -- which hadn’t been in the pile in the first place, but rather at the bank in a safety deposit box that May hadn’t had the key for, but Peter had come home with the contents of the box the next day. Sweet-talked the bank into having some sympathy, she guessed.

So, ever since then, she had a meticulous filing system, everything in its place and a place for everything. Somehow, she had more control over her life that way. Sort of.

Peter himself was getting a little crazy out of control, between the school activities that he was no longer doing -- on the plus side, it meant she was able to pawn his tuba, on the negative side, he was devoting all his time to the Stark Internship, which was work he wasn’t getting paid for. Sort of. Sometimes he was. Not money, money, but SI sent him home with a laptop and some computer things, and one time for whatever reason, Peter had brought home a Stark Kitchen Mixer with all the attachments.

May was not particularly a fan of Tony Stark, and she’d said so. He had a terrible reputation and the one time she’d met him, he’d had a black eye, been extremely smarmy, and the fact that he’d spit her walnut date bread out in the trash did nothing to endear him to her. (Come to think of it, didn’t the Stark Kitchen Mixer come with a recipe book that included date walnut bread? Oooooh, now she was really angry with him.) He’d also borrowed Peter for an entire weekend without much notice, and Peter had come back from that with a concussion from getting overly excited and falling down the stairs. So he said.

May sometimes wondered if Peter was drinking on the sly. Tony Stark had a reputation for being an alcoholic, and Peter looked up to the man like he was a good role model. He totally wasn’t.

Not that May hadn’t been getting her brother to buy her beer and leave it out by the family trash can on her nights to empty the cans, and then she’d smuggle it back to her room, but she was seventeen, not fifteen, and… well, the less she dwelled on her own teenage shenanigans, the happier she’d probably be.

Finally!

She dug the receipt out of the file for Peter’s clothes and school supplies.

He’d lost his backpack.

Again.

For the fifth time that year.

She really didn’t know what he was doing with them. He wouldn’t tell her and he always managed to distract her or walk away from the conversation. She thought maybe he was being bullied; Peter was a slight, nerdy sort of kid. Although he did go to a school that was literally bulging at the seams with nerds sorts of kids.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t being bullied. And Peter might have handed over his backpack to a bully and then not wanted to tell her about it.

And what May Parker knew about bullies was that giving in to them once meant giving in forever.

Of course, standing up to a bully didn’t always work either, and she started wondering about that concussion again.

She pulled out her phone. She had a contact number for Stark Industries. In case of emergencies.

Was wondering if something was going on at Stark Industries an emergency?

May scowled at her phone like her phone had told her she was being ridiculous. It was a Stark phone, too. Peter’d brought it home, along with a phone plan that was paid for by SI -- part of their corporate billing, he told her. Drop in the bucket. She wasn’t to worry about it.

May didn’t use it very often; even though Peter had assured her that it was her phone, she kept wondering if she’d be expected to pay for it if she broke it.

She scrolled through the numbers, Peter, Ned, a few of her friends. Not that she had many, these days. She worked three jobs, just trying to pay the rent on their apartment so Peter could stay at Midtown High. After he graduated, she was sure he’d get a scholarship or loans or something, and she could move upstate. Someplace cheaper.

Stark Industries.

May hesitated, then punched Call.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Parker,” a female voice with a gently lilting Irish accent said. “Thank you for calling. I’m Friday, the coordinator for the Interns. What might I do for you, today?”

The woman on the other end of the phone sounded confident, professional, and friendly. May found herself settling into the sofa, feeling easier just knowing that someone worked there who wasn’t all razzle-dazzle as Tony Stark. “I’m wondering if Peter, my nephew?”

“Yes, he’s a very intelligent young man, you must be very proud. Hard-working, determined. He’s been paired with one of my personal assistants, Karen. She’s had nothing but good things to say about him.”

“Thanks. I was wondering,” May said. “He keeps losing his backpack, and, I don’t know, he’s a little shy about telling me what’s happening, and it’s kinda got me on edge. Do you know if he’s having any problems with the other interns?”

“As far as I know, he is not,” Friday said. “But I can make some inquiries, discretely, of course. I know how teenagers get. Karen might know more, I’ll ask her. In the meanwhile, we have several backpacks that are getting ready to be released for our sports and leisure lines, I’ll have one sent over to you. He can give that a real test use, we’ll see how it holds up to the sort of abuse a high schooler can put a bag through.”

Friday laughed knowingly, and May smiled.

“That’d be nice, thank you,” May said.

“I’ll send the survey forms along with it, so he can give us some detailed thoughts on how it performs for him,” Friday said. “Is there anything else I can do for you, today?”

“No, I think… I feel a lot better, thank you, Friday,” May said.

“You’ve very welcome. Feel free to call, or text me, any time. We know the internship can be very demanding, and I’m here to help, any way I can.”

May hung up the phone. Maybe she’d misjudged Tony Stark. He certainly had some really excellent employees.


End file.
